


My family wouldn't be in the mess we're in if my father had a union

by EnchantingWriting



Series: The Adventures of the Ridiculously Large Jacobs Family and Co. [1]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: AU - Large Family, Davey and Les have eight additional siblings, Gen, Poverty, Prequel, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-03-23 05:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13781136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnchantingWriting/pseuds/EnchantingWriting
Summary: A series a one-shots about the newsies, Davey Jacobs, and Davey's nine siblings, both before and after the strike.





	1. Chapter 1

The Jacobs family didn’t have much.

Well, actually, that was a lie.

They had a lot of kids. Ten, in fact. Now, them Jacobses, they lived in a crammed, three-room flat in a Lower Manhattan tenement. Parents and the four youngest, they slept in the smaller bedroom. The littles all slept on one bed, and the ‘rents in the other. An unused cradle is shoved in a corner, at least until the next baby arrived. The older six, they got to split three beds between ‘em. At least they got the (slightly) larger bedroom.

Largest room is the “eatin’ and livin’ room,” as the firstborn Jonny calls it. They got a rickety old table Pop found lying in the street. It was missing a couple legs, but Pop’s pop was a carpenter back in Poland so he knew how to fix it. They got five chairs; only two of ‘em match. Some they found in trash heaps on the street, or got real cheap at some secondhand furniture shop. Their tenement’s too old for an icebox, but they got a fire escape that’s like a fourth room in the spring, summer, and early fall. The kids sleep out there all the time during the warm months.

There’s a couple photo frames and newspaper articles hung on the wall, along with prayer cards and a saint icon Mam got as a wedding present. Pop nailed four milk crates to the wall, too. They hold all of David’s—he’s the second oldest—books. He gets ‘em real cheap, a penny a book. Knows some guy, he says. The family don’t ask, don’t really care, but they indulge the habit, even if it’s a bit useless. What would a boy who’ll start work in the factory in two years need book for? You see, Dave’s a bit of sickly kid—he gets a fever or a cough of some sort once or twice a month. They spoil him a bit because of it.

Now, those kids. Ten of ‘em, they were all dark-haired and dark-eyed like their pop. Before we get to ‘em, we gotta talk about their folks first. The kids wouldn’t be here without their folks. Pop’s a Jew of Polish stock, the son of immigrants. His name is Henryk, but everyone at work and outside the family calls him Henry. Mam calls him Harry. It’s more American, after all. Now, Mam’s an Irishwoman. Most devout Catholic you’ve ever met. Born and bred in the stinking cesspit that is Dublin, and came to America when she was fourteen with her folks and six siblings. Her name’s Alannah Kelly Jacobs. Kelly’s her maiden name. Married Henryk when she was seventeen. He was twenty.

Had their first “bairn,” as Mam says, ten months after they married. Baptized him Catholic, and gave him the name John. Three years later, they had David. An Old Testament name to satisfy his Jewish father. In true Irish fashion, Sarah came eleven months after David. Her father picked out the name. Next was Louise, two years younger than Sarah. With the same space between ‘em, Mam birthed twins, a boy and a girl. Esther and Lester—Mam insisted on matching names. Little Eleanor followed with that same two-year gap. She had an Irish twin, though—Susan. Two years after Susan came Charlotte. Mam was so sure this one was a boy—she was gonna name him Charles. Charlotte came instead. After _another_ two years, Mam got her son, a little lad she named Samuel. Fifteen years, ten kids. That Catholics for ya.

So, to repeat, there’s Pop, Mam, Jonny, David, Sarah, Lou, Essie, Les, Ellie, Susie, Lottie, and Sammy. Can’t keep their names straight? Imagine how it must be for poor Mam!

Now, they’re poor, but they ain’t starving. Pop’s got a good job as a dock manager, overseeing carters and drivers loading cargo from the ships onto their carts and trucks. Mam works nights at the factory, when the girls are home from school to mind the littles. Jonny, who’s seventeen, works as a hired muscle on the docks with Pop. The kids from David to Ellie go to the local parish school, run by Catholic nuns. At night, they sew shirts they sell at a market every Saturday. If Ma isn’t too tired from her shift, she’ll sew during the day, too.

Basically, the family got on fine. They ate lots of potato-and-meat-broth soups, the veggies in it depending on the season. Bread, coffee, and milk for breakfast. Lunch was more bread and the cheapest canned food they sold at the grocer’s down the street. They usually had bread with their supper. Mam made tons of it. Around the day rent was due, Pop sometimes rubbed dirty on Ellie and Essie and sent them off to sell Mam’s loaves on the streets. “Folks’ll buy anthing from orphan paupers,” he’d say. Mam never found out, though. She’d call it dishonest and toeing the line of the devil.

So, this story began on an ordinary day for the Jacobses. In the small bedroom, Pop slept in his bed (Mam’s at work), while the littles snoozed on their slightly larger one. In the bigger bedroom, David and Jonny snored on their bed. It was late spring, so they just slept in their undershorts. Same with Les, who bunked with Essie and Ellie. Sarah and Lou had the last bed.

Their cheap alarm clock went off at six. Everyone groaned a bit, but they staggered out of bed and started getting dressed. The two older girls minded the littles while Essie and Ellie went to the grocer’s across town to get milk and coffee. Les went to find chunks of wood for Mam to use as kindling when she cooked dinner that night.

Now, since this is about David, we gotta follow his day. He donned his pinstriped shirt, tied his striped tie, clipped on his suspenders, and finished off with his checkered waistcoat. He walked into the “eatin’ and livin’ room,” almost running into Pop.

“Morning, Pop,” he said. Pop started laughing. “What’s so funny?”

“Where’s your shoes and cap, sport?” Pop ruffled his hair and went to go slice the bread for breakfast. David headed back into his bedroom to put on his boots and cap.

Jonny and Pop ate a quick breakfast before heading off to the docks. Mam got back at six forty-five. The kids talked with her a bit, tried to make her laugh while she ate breakfast and nursed Sammy. They did a bit of sewing until eight-fifteen, when David announced it was time to leave for school. They grumble a bit, but they head out. The walk’s quick, at least—only a few blocks.

They went to a parochial school attended by most Irish and German kids. They were Catholic, of course. Nuns taught the classes. They were lumped together into three age groups. The dilapidated school was freezing in winter and hotter than the Devil when it was warm out. Still, David and his siblings were learning stuff, and that was invaluable.

David was studying for his Confirmation, along with history, mathematics, and arithmetic. The curriculum was kinda bad. He read stuff about economics sometimes. The parish priest would let him buy books wealthy benefactors donated to the poor parish for pennies. He learned more from those books than he ever did in school.

At the end of the school day, about two, David collected his younger siblings. Using a nickel, he bought three potatoes from a street seller. They split them amongst themselves for lunch and some bread they packed that morning. Feeling refreshed, they headed home and trooped up four flights of stairs to get to their flat.

As soon as David opened the door, he knew something was wrong. An unfamiliar man with an Irish accent was speaking to a crying Mam. Sammy and Lottie clung to her skirt, red-faced and wailing. Susie was nowhere to be soon. David froze in the doorway—they all did. Finally David asked, “What’s wrong, Mam? Who’s this fellow?”

Mam dabbed at her eyes. “There was an incident at the docks today. This be Dr. McKinley.”

David smiled tightly. “How do you do, sir?” He turned back to Mam. “Pop and Jonny, are they alright?”

“Pop ‘urt!” Lottie wailed. Mam stroked his dark curls. David’s heart dropped, and Sarah and Lou started crying.

“A delivery truck ran his leg over and broke it. The injury is severe,” Dr. McKinley said. Now Les and Essie and Ellie started crying, too. David blinked his tears away.

“Pop’s not dead, though? He’s here, sir?” David said frantically.

“He’s in a lot o’ pain, but aye, he’s not dead. Praise God,” Mam said. Everyone made the Sign of the Cross. “The doctor set the bone, an’ he splinted it or sumthin’.”

“Your dad’s in the back bedroom, son,” the doctor added kindly. “Your brother—John?—is minding him, and one of your sisters is snuggled against him. Let him rest a bit.”

“That’s where Susan is,” David heard Sarah mutter to Essie.

The doctor looked at the crying kids and blubbering Mam. “I’d best be going. If you need me, send one of your boys to fetch me at this address.” He handed Mam a bit of paper she wouldn’t be able to read. She grabbed his hand and patted it.

“Thank you, Doctor. You’re too kind. God bless you,” she said.

“God bless you and your family as well, Mrs. Jacobs. I pray to the Virgin tonight in his name.” With that, Dr. McKinley left.

The girls all went for hugs and kisses from Mam. Les, too, even though he was a bit too old for that sort of thing. David just grabbed the sewing box and started working on a shirt. He was decent at needlework, always lending a hand with his mam and sisters’ side business.

After they all cried it out, Mam made the girls and Les pick up their sewing. “I used all the rent money to pay for Pop’s doctorin’,” she suddenly blurted. “All the savings, too.”

Sarah and David gaped at her. Lou frowned. ‘Rent’s due in two weeks, Mam. We can’t make that much money that quick.”

“Pop can’t work, neither,” Sarah whispered.

“We might be sleepin’ on the streets,” Mam said gravely. “I dunno what to do.” She hugged Sammy close to her chest. “So many mouths to feed…”

David didn’t look up from his sewing. He wouldn’t be able to bear seeing the heartbreak on his mam’s face. “We kids are gonna have to work, Mam.”

Mam and the girls and Les gaped at him. “Jonny started workin’ at fifteen,” Lou said.

“Well Pop dun have a job no more, an’ there’s no cash gettin’ brung now,” Mam told her.

“Jonny’s and Mam’s salaries won’t be enough to provide for the family,” David added.

“Where we’s gonna work?” Les said, talking like some street kid. David didn’t bother correcting him.

Just then, the door to the ‘rents and littles’ room clicked open. Jonny said, “Factories. David can join me at the docks.”

Mam frowned. “I could get Sarah a job at the factory. If Ellie an’ Lou an’ Essie dun go to school no more, they can sew all day an’ make a lotta shirts.” She looked at her sons. “Jonny’s, David’s too frail for the factories or the docks. Remember how he got bronkis* last month, and a fever three weeks before that? What can he do?”

“Mam, I’m not an invalid!” David protested.

Jonny held up a hand to silence him. After a moment, he said, “There’s money to be had as a newsie. Les could do it, too.”

“Newsies are gutter rats!” Mam said. “Such dirty, dreadful lads.”

“They makes decent money, Mam. Just see how David does—Les, too. It’s that or starve!” His voice rose.

“Dun take a lip with me, laddies! I dun need it from my own bairns,” Mam whisper-shouted, since Pop was sleeping.

Realizing his mistake, Jonny kissed her cheek and patted her hands. “I’m real sorry, Mam.”

“God help me.” Mam shook her head. “Lester, David?”

“Yes, Mam?” they said.

“You go in the mornin’, tell the sisters you ain’t able to come for schoolin’ no more. You have to do catechesis at night or sumthin’. You hear me?”

“Yes, Mam!”

She sat down at the table wearily. “I’m exhausted, lads. David, get the Bible an’ read me a psalm or two.”

David obliged. He thumbed through the worn family Bible, until he found Psalms. He found one psalm he thought was fitting. “‘God is our refuge and strength a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear…’”* And so it went on.

Mam beamed at him when he was done. “My sweet David,” she said. “Even if I can’t read, I’ve got you to do it for me.” She glanced around. “The Lord will guide us through these troubled times, my bairns. Ain’t nothin’ we gotta be scared of.” David wished he could blindly trust in the future like that.

She stood up and told Lou to help her with dinner. While everyone sewed or cooked, they prayed a Rosary, and then another one. David didn’t even have to focus on it. Mam was a devout Catholic, and she had trained her children well.

They ate dinner—bread and potato-and-meat-broth soup--, setting aside bowls for Susie and Pop. Mam headed to work at five-fifteen. Her shift was from six to six. She worked at a textile factory. “I’ll see if they has an opening for you, lassie,” she told Sarah before she left.

David, Sarah, and Jonny sent the younger kids except for Sammy to go play outside. “No use mopin’ around till Pop wakes up,” Jonny said. Dragging their feet a bit, they obeyed.

“Can’t believe all the savings’re gone,” David said in a low voice.

Jonny looked at his younger brother and sister. “We gotta take as much burden off Mam as we can, so’s she can focus on Pop. It’s up to us to keep the family afloat.”

“Think being a newsie will be hard? They’re a rough crowd,” David said.

“I dunno much about newsyin’. You’re gonna learn, I guess,” said Jonny. “‘Sides, don’t be a classist to ‘em. You ain’t much better off than ‘em.” He gestured around the dingy, crammed flat.

David thought of the hungry-looking, dirty boys who hawked papers on street corners. Some were barely seven, others seventeen. Many were apart of families with similar income levels to the Jacobses, but some were street children. Their folks were either dead or just abandoned them. “I know, Jonny, I know. I’ll watch out for Les, too.”

“Good lad.” Jonny ruffled his hair. “Hold his hand, he’s prone to wanderin’.”

“I know,” David said aain.

“You were, too, as a little. Sari was worse.” Jonny winked at his sister, who was cuddling Sammy at the table. Babies were very soothing. Sarah struck out her tongue at him, something Mam would scold her for if she was there.

David went back to sewing. He finished a shirt by eight-thirty, and Jonny at nine. By then, the younger ones came back and helped, too. They didn’t finish another shirt, though. When the city bell struck ten, Jonny sent everyone to bed. The littles bunked in his and David's bed to give Pop some peace. The brothers would sleep on the floor that night.  

David opened the door to the smaller bedroom to see Pop starting out the window, at the city lights. Susie was cuddled up against him, humming some Polish song.

“Pop, you’re awake! Why didn’t you holler?” Not waiting for a reply, David went to go get the soup bowls set aside for him and Susie. They slurped it down real fast.

David finally saw the leg. His dad was in his undershorts and undershirt. His leg was splinted, but it still looked a bit crooked. It was wrapped in a white gauze bandage and a white overwrap. Pop’s face, hands, and shins were all scraped up, too. “How do you feel?” David asked.

“Leg hurts,” Pop grunted. He turned to Susie. “You go sleep in your room, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning.” He kissed her head, and off she went. He turned back to David. “Got any bread? Be a sport and go get your pop some.” David brought it to him.

“I’m finding work as a newsie tomorrow. Les is too,” David blurted.

“Why’s that?” Pop frowned.

“Doctor cost a lot.”

Pop closed his eyes. “How much, sport?”

“All the savings and rent money.”

“God damn it!” Pop growled. “Alannah would’ve never told me, would she’ve?”

“Probably not,” David said.

“She at work?”

“Yeah. Gonna see if they’ll hire Sarah.”

Pop’s eyes fixed on the _hamsa_ and crucifix nailed to the wall. “Jonny says they’ll probably lay me off at the docks, won’t hold my job for me.”

David said nothing.

“You and your brother, you have to be there for your mam,” Pop said.

“I know,” David said for the third time that night. “We’ll get through this, Pop, I know we will.”

“Will we?” Pop stared out the window again, at the city with all its twinkling lights. Those lights never did mask the unforgiving, ruthless nature of New York City.

* * *

 

That next morning, David and Les woke up. David put on his shirt, waistcoat, suspenders, trousers, and tie. They were a bit worn, but clean and mended. He wanted to look sharp. He remembered his boots and cap this time. Once he and Les ate breakfast, they hurried to get to Newsboy Square. Pop suggested selling for _The World_ , since it was his favorite newspaper. David figured the newspaper handed out bundles the newsies would pay for later, and then he’d give back the ones he didn’t sell. Just in case, he took the last dime from his Christmas stash.

David hoped they had a good first day on the job.


	2. Jack Meets the Jacobs Clan

Their first day as newsies had not gotten off to a good start.

As it turned out, a newsie had to buy the papers _before_ he sold them, and the newspaper wouldn't buy back any unsold papers at the end of the day. When he simply went up the circulation gate and asked for twenty papers. He figured he would start small, and increase the number of papers he sold each day over the course of a few weeks while he learned the ropes. Imagine his surprise when Mr. Wiesel, the foul-smelling dealer, asked him to pay up. His ears turned red with shame as the other newsies laughed at him. They were dirty and smelled funny; he did not like them at all. A particularly rough-looking boy with dark hair and green eyes laughed the hardest. His only redeeming quality was that he had mocked Wiesel earlier, calling him "Weasel" and other such names.

So now David was counting his papers, just double checking to see if he had been given the right amount. He planned to split them with his little brother. He knew Les was just itching to talk to the other boys, but he told his rambunctious brother to stay put. When he only counted nineteen, his eyes widened. He counted again and got the same number.

He approached the circulation gate and said carefully, "I purchased twenty, but only received nineteen. May I have one more newspaper, please?"

The two hired muscles with Wiesel, probably brothers by the looks of them, crossed their arms. "We don't ever miscount papes. Move it along, you're holdin' up the line."

"No really, you gave me nineteen—"

"Move _it_ , kid!" the taller muscle said with venom. David's face flushed in anger.

Wiesel rolled his eyes. "Stupid new kids," he muttered.

Before he could react, the boy who had mocked Wiesel earlier snatched David's bundle and scampered back a few feet.

David watched cautiously as the rough-looking boy rummaged through his newspaper bundle. He kept a firm hand on Les's shoulder, fearful his rambunctious brother would say something that would get them both pounded.

Instead the boy says, "You gave him nineteen, Weasel. I ain't surprised—Oscar's thicker than a rock. Youse really shouldn't have him countin' out the papes."

One of the brothers tried to charge at the boy, but Wiesel smacked him on the back of the head and shook his head. Seething, the hired muscle yanked a newspaper from the stack and tossed it at David. David was so surprised that he barely caught it. Ducking his head, he kept his grip on Les's shoulder and practically began to drag his brother towards the gate that would take them out of Newsie Square, which seemed more terrifying to him than Brooklyn.

To his horror, he heard the boy say, "I'll take another hundred for the new kids, Weasel." David heard a coin smack against the metal of Wiesel's strongbox.

Infuriated, David whirled around. "I'm not an almsman!" he snapped, glaring at the kid. "I don't even know who you are."

"I think he's called Jack," Les whispered. Les's whispering was him talking at normal volume.

"I'm your new sellin' partner, that's who I is," 'Jack' said. "I'm Jack Kelly."

"I'm Les, and this is my brother David."

"Nice to meetcha, Les, an' you too, Davey."

David is about to correct him when Kelly goes on to say, "Now, youse can sell them hundred papes an' I get seventy percent of what youse make. Sound good?"

"We aren't selling partners, and I do not want any more newspapers," David said, trying to sound firm.

The dozen or so newsboys that were crowded around them, watching, gasped. "Sellin' with Jack is the chance of a _lifetime_ ," a kid with a crooked leg like David's pop said. "He's the king of sellin' papes.

"If he's the king, why does he need _me_?" David countered.

"You got one more little brother than I do," Kelly said. "Little kids sell lotsa papes."

To David's horror, Les stepped forward. "We'll be your sellin' partners, but we's gotta split our earnings sixty-forty. Ain't fair otherwise."

The other newsies gasped again. Kelly looked like he was gonna pound Les, but then he grinned. "Deal." He spat in his hand and held it out. Les did too, and they shook hands.

"That's gross," David said.

"It's business." Jack Kelly climbed on top of a discarded crate. "Fellas—hit the streets an' get to sellin'. We ain't got all day!"

The newsies scattered like chaff in an autumn storm after that, until it was just Jack, Les, and David all staring at each other. "What are you lookin' at?" Jack asked. He sounded friendly when he said it.

"Can I have the hundred papes, so I can split them between Les and me?" David tried not to scowl.

"Sure thing." Jack handed the two bundles of fifty papes to him. David handed one to Les and shoved the other in his bag. It felt ready to burst under the weight of sixty papes. Thankfully, David was strong enough to haul all of them around. "I'll show youse where to sell. C'mon."

They walked down Park Row and go down Broadway. Jack makes a left at the corner of Broadway and Ann Street, taking them down Ann until they reach the corner Ann and Gold. The city's bustling—kids to school or work, adults to work, street vendors, beggars, you name it. Plenty of kids, shoeless and ragged, just play in the street. Half of 'em don't speak English. They're rough, dirty kids, and David avoids them like the plague.

Jack told him that this was his and Les's new selling spot—Ann and Gold. "It's pretty steady through here. Lots of the fellas started here—Race, Mush, Elmer. We'll see how well it works for ya. Speak any German? There's a lot of 'em 'round these parts."

"Naw," Les said. "We speaks Polish, though."

"Call out your headlines in Polish, then. You never knows—a couple of Polacks might be walkin' around with a penny in their pocket." Jack winked at them.

"Where will you be?" David asked.

"In front of St. Paul's."

"You Episcopalian?" Les inquired.

"Naw. The priest fella, he's fine wi' me hawkin' papes out there as long as I don't drive worshippers away."

"Ain't a priest," David muttered.

"What's that?"

"There's not one Episcopalian priest that's a real priest. They're all a bunch of frauds," David muttered. He wasn't fond of Anglicanism or its American counterpart. He'd been raised hearing Mam's countless rants about the Church of Ireland.

"Youse a catlicker, ain't you?" Jack said with a grin.

Bristling at the slur, David gave a terse nod. "Yeah, I'm Catholic. Got a problem with it?"

"None at all. I'm an Irish lad myself." Jack waved a hand. "The Episcopalian priest ain't so bad. He gives me bread to share with the fellas sometimes." He shrugged. "I'm gonna go head to my spot. See ya, Les an' Davey!" With that, he scampered back down Ann. He did not even look over his shoulder.

"Go across the street, and stand where I can keep an eye on you. Don't get lost in the crowd. Be firm, but don't be aggressive," David said to his brother.

"Yes, Mam," Les said, rolling his eyes. "You like Jack? I think he's funny."

"He sure is something," David said. "Now go and get selling. We have a bunch of papers to sell."

"Like I didn't know!" Les called as he dashed across the street. He dodged between carts and pedestrians nimbly. He was born to live in New York.

David realized selling papers was a lot harder than it looked. No one liked the headline—"Trolley Strike Enters Third Week"—in English _or_ Polish. He tried saying it in Gaelic but failed miserably. Mam would have been so disappointed.

After fifteen minutes, someone finally bought a pape. The penny was a comforting weight in his pocket. David grew more confident after that. He made the headline a _bit_ more interesting, but he wasn't bearing false witness. He'd just shout, "'Trolley Strike Enters _Rapturing_ Third Week'!" He could have sworn a raggedy-looking Italian bought a pape just because he wanted to know what 'rapturing' meant. This was what David got for reading so many books.

After two hours, he had sold fifteen papes. He finally managed to sell a pape by calling out in Polish to a woman in a grimy klapica. She grinned at him and bought a pape with a nickel. He did not give her any change.

"Morning pape! Get the latest news!" David called for hours.

Around two, he still had thirty-five papes left. He had a lucky five minutes where he sold _seven_ at once. The coins clinked in his pocket, and the ever-present anxiety in his chest decreased just a little.

At three, he and Les bought a potato to split for lunch. It wasn't as good as Mam's, though.

By four, he had twenty papes left.

By five, workers began leaving the factories. He sold thirteen between the four and five o' clock bells. By six, the sun was starting to set and David was starting to feel desperate. He became more aggressive, practically shoving the papes in folks' faces. He sold three by doing that. A Polish man bought another. He had three left when he heard Jack laughing.

"Sing 'em to sleep, why don't ya!" He smirked and grabbed a paper from an astonished David. "'Fire Destroys Six Buildings in Indonesia'!" he yelled. Someone snatched it five minutes later.

"You just lied about that," David accused.

Les spotted Jack across the street and scampered over. "Sold all my papes!" he yelled.

Jack slapped him on the back. "That's a good fella! Help your big brother out an' see if youse can sell the rest."

"Easy as pie," Les laughed. He swiped the papers from David and ran down the street to approach a nicely-dressed lady who was probably a typist at some office. "Buy a paper an' feed a boy an' his sick ma!" he practically begged.

The lady put a hand over her mouth. The other one went into her pocket. She pulled out a dime. "Of course I'll take a paper—here's ten cents. Buy medicine for your mama, sweetheart," she said.

"Thanks, ma'am! God bless!" Les called after her.

He waited until the woman was gone before he selected his next victim, a man wearing a factory foreman's uniform. "Buy a pape from an orphan lad! Help keep me an' my siblings from starvin' this winter!" he cried.

The man frowned a bit, but took the paper. He handed Les a penny and hurried on his way.

"He's a natural if I ever saw one. Sure your last name ain't Kelly, kid?" Jack asked.

"No, but that was my mam's—" Les began excitedly.

Jack interrupted him. He turned to David. "Say, Davey, I never caught your last name. What is it?"

"Jacobs," David said. He dug out the thirty pennies he had stowed into one pocket. "Here's your sixty percent, Kelly."

" _Jacobs_ ," Jack repeated. He shoved the coins in his trousers pocket. "Sure you're Catholic? Jacobs sounds Jewish to me."

Les said, "We ain't Jewish, but—"

Les got spoken over _again_. "They changed Jablonski to Jacobs when my grandpop came over from Poland," David said quickly. He shot a look at Les. Pop constantly told them, "Don't tell no one your pop's a Jew. It closes a lotta doors."

"I can't even say that. I's see why they changed it," Jack chuckled.

"Les, give Jack his thirty cents. Did you count it out like I asked you to?" David put a hand on his brother's shoulder.

Grumbling under his breath about David acting like he was his mam, Les fished the coins out of his pocket and dumped them into Jack's cupped hands. Jack winked. "Youse officially out of debt," he said. "Now, Davey, how much money a day are you hopin' to make?"

"A quarter," David said.

"Then youse gonna want to set twenty-five cents aside each tonight, an' save the rest for buyin' your papes tomorrow. Youse both got fifty cents each, right? Forty each from the papes I bought you, and ten from the papes Davey bought?"

The brothers nodded.

Jack clapped them both on the back. "It was nice doin' business with you mugs. Now, let's get some chow an' see if we can get you beds at the 'Hattan lodgin' house for newsies."

David's eyes widened. "Oh no, we have to get home, dinner's probably ready. The rest of the family'll be waiting until we get back."

"You got a home and a _family_?" Jack said, frowning a bit.

"Don't everybody?" Les chuckled a bit. David squeezed his shoulder firmly. He'd have to scold him for his tactlessness later.

"I, uh, why don't you come back to our flat for dinner? There's usually enough to go around," David said.

Almost flustered, the usually-glib Jack stammered out, "Oh, y'know, I got plans with this one mug from Brooklyn later tonight—"

"Mam's a good cook. You like potatoes?" Les asked.

Jack looked between David and Les. Finally, he sighed. "Your folks don't mind if I's come over?"

"Not at all," David said. "It's always crowded, so they don't really notice an extra face."

They began walking in the direction of the Jacobses' tenement in a bit of an awkward silence. Soon, Les filled it by chattering about his day and everything he saw on the street. "I saw a kid steal apples from the same vendor _four_ times," he gushed.

"Did you tell the vendor?" David asked.

"Kid was real skinny. Probably needed the apples." Les shrugged.

"It's still no excuse to steal," David said.

"Anyways, I think I learned more in one day of newsyin' than I ever did in school," Les concluded.

That finally got Jack's attention. "Youse went to school?"

"Until yesterday," Les confirmed.

David knew he would be the one who had to explain. "Our pop, he got hit by a truck on the job and broke his leg. Since they tossed him to the curb, everyone had to find work. It's not a big deal for me, I would've started working in a year anyway, but Les didn't get to go for nearly as long as he should have." The words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Least you got to go," Jack said. "Sounds like your dad got a rotten deal."

"He really did…We're luckier than most, getting to go school at all," David acknowledged. "Did you ever go?"

"I went until I was ten. Learned to read an' count. That's basically all you needs to know." The older boy shrugged.

"How long you been newsyin'?" Les asked. They were about two blocks away from their tenement.

"Well, I'm sixteen now, so six years."

"Is that a long time, for a newsie?" David wanted to know.

"Naw, some fellas've been sellin' since they was five or six. Younger youse are, the more papes you sell."

"Makes sense," David said. "Les is a lot better at selling than I am."

"That's also 'cause youse is _you_ ," Jack said with a laugh.

"You don't even know me!"

"You seem to be the quiet type. Quiet folks, it takes them a bit to get used to sellin'. You just have to be a bit louder, is all. You ain't a bad seller at all; youse did really good for your first day."

"Thanks," David said.

They walked in silence until they reached the brothers' tenement building. David and Les led Jack down the side alley and to the entrance. They clambered up four flights of dark, narrow stairs. When they stepped into the fourth floor hallway, it was lit by a single gas bulb. Two grimy windows on opposite ends of the hall let in a bit of natural light. David went four doors down on the right and knocked. Someone inside shuffled around, and his sister Sarah opened the door. "Oh good, you're home just in time for dinner. Mam an' I have to go to work in about an hour—I hope Jonny gets back before we have to leave." She stepped out of the doorway. When David, with Les and Jack trailing behind, entered, she finally noticed Jack. "Who's this?"

"Jack Kelly. He helped us get places selling at _The World_ , so I invited him to come to dinner," David said. "Jack, this is my little sister Sarah."

"Hi," Jack said with an easy grin. David thought he saw Sarah swoon a bit.

Sarah shook his hand. "Hello. I'm afraid dinner's simple tonight, just potatoes, meat broth soup, an' bread."

"It's food, ain't it? I'll eat anythin' you puts in front of me," Jack assured her. He was looking around the "eatin' an' livin'" area. The big table shoved in one corner, the peeling wallpaper, the cook stove that sometimes spat coal dust, the battered wood floors, the mantle crowded with photos and little plastic saint statues. It was humble and small, but it was also clean and homey. David wondered if Jack was wishing he could come home to a place like this every night.

"Where's the girls?" he asked, meaning Lou, Essie, Ellie, Susie, and Lottie.

"Lou an' Essie're doing a bit of sewing in the front bedroom, an' Ellie, Susie, an' Lottie are playin' in the street, burnin' off some energy. Don't know how they still got it, they was workin' all day. Didn't you see 'em walkin' in?" Lou, Essie, Ellie, and Susie had gotten jobs selling ribbons and flowers.

"The street was really crowded," David explained.

"Where's Mam an' Pop?" Les said. He took a seat at the table, and the other three moved to join him.

"Pop's restin', I think Mam said she was gonna pray before dinner, an' I just got Sammy to nap, so don't go botherin' 'em," Sarah admonished him.

"I ain't gonna bother 'em," Les grumbled.

"So how many brothers' an' sisters you guys got? Youse keep throwin' around a lotta names," Jack said.

"I have three brothers and six sisters, including Sarah and Les," David told him.

Jack's eyes bugged out. "Ten kids. I gotta tell you, Davey, that's a lot. Older or younger?"

"One older brother, and the rest are younger. Lucky me," David grumbled. He grunted when Sarah elbowed him in the ribs.

"We ain't _that_ bad," Sarah said. "We just keep him on his toes, is all. It helps him not be so uptight all the time."

"It must be hard work," Jack chuckled.

David scowled. Thankfully, he was saved by a knock on the door. Sarah got up and opened it, revealing a sweat-soaked Jonny standing in the hall. He walked in and immediately went to the back room to change out of his work clothes.

"That's my brother John," Les murmured to Jack. "He's always quiet after work. He'll be out in a second."

"Where's he work?"

"The docks. He unloads ships."

Sarah touched Les's shoulder. "Can you climb down the fire escape an' go get the girls? Tell 'em dinner's ready."

David stood up. "I'll get Mam, Pop, Jonny, Lou, and Essie. You start dishing, Sari. I'll be right back, Jack."

"Sounds good," she replied, going to get their chipped plates and bowls from the cabinet by the stove.

"You need any help, Sarah?" David heard Jack ask just before he stepped into the front bedroom.

Lou and Essie were sewing shirts on their beds when David walked into the room. Jonny was clad in a clean undershirt and the same trousers. He was putting his suspenders back on. "Dinner's ready," he told them. "Potatoes, bread, and soup."

"It's always that," Essie replied.

"Aren't you a laugh a minute?" David rolled his eyes and shut the door. Quietly, he turned to the second door in the narrow hallway and knocked on it. "Mam, Pop? It's David."

"Come in," David heard his mam say in her lilting Irish accent.

When David walked in the back bedroom, he saw Pop looked a little better. He lay under the covers reading a Polish newspaper from last week. David figured he was probably bored out of his mind, being stuck in bed all day. His bruises had lightened a bit, the cuts were scabbing, and his face had a bit more color to it. Mam sat on the bed, bouncing Sammy on one knee. In one hand she clutched an old wooden Rosary.

"How was work?" Pop immediately wanted to know.

"Not bad, I sold all my papes. Les and I made sixty cents between the two of us. A kid got us set up with a selling spot, so I invited him over for dinner." David lowered his voice. "I don't think he has a family or a play to stay; his face and clothes are a little grimy. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not, dear. It was a good thing you did, invitin' him over," Mam said. "Take Sammy, will ye?"

David took his toddler brother, placed him on his hip, and planted a kiss on the boy's dark curls. Delighted, Sammy wrapped his arms around David's shoulders and kissed his cheek in return. "Dwavid!" he said loudly.

"He sounds like Les, always yelling," David said to his parents.

"Put the money in the strongbox after dinner," Pop said in a low voice.

"Will do. By the way, I'm in here to tell you dinner's ready. Jonny just got home."

"I heard him lumber in," Mam said. She stood up. David noticed she was wearing her factory dress. "Harry, I'll have one of the girls bring you a plate. I love you." She kissed him.

When she pulled away, Henryk looked up at her and smiled. "Love you too, Alannah. Watch out for Sarah at work."

"I watch out for all of 'em." Mam took Sammy from David and stepped out into the hall. Her son followed her. She turned to him.

" _Your da was in low spirits today_ ," she said in Gaelic. " _Would you mind singin' to him a bit later?_ _He loves yer voice, laddie."_

David nodded. "Of course, Mam," he replied in English. He understood Gaelic and could speak a bit of it, but he preferred English. Mostly his mother just spoke to him in Gaelic and he replied in English.

"You must." Mam squeezed his shoulder and headed to the kitchen. David trailed behind her, mulling over her request. David had been told his whole life by his family that he had a fantastic singing voice, but he had never thought so. Pop was the one with real talent—in a different life he could have been a famous singer. It was funny how fate worked.

Mam went over to the table, where everyone was crowded around. The littler girls sat on the floor, playing with rag dolls. Lou and Essie skittered around the kitchen, restless. Les and Jack were deep in conversation; they seemed to be talking about the best street corners in 'Hattan to sell papes. Jonny sat across from them, listening intently. When Mam stepped into the kitchen, she was immediately swarmed by a small horde of her children. She laughed, and kissed and hugged each one of them. Even Les left Jack's side to greet her. Only Sarah, David, and Jonny held back—they were too old for such antics.

Finally, Mam unattached herself from the small horde. "Essie, go take a plate to yer da. Susie an' Lottie, go eat in the back room wi' Pop, it would make him so very happy."

"Yes, Mam." David's little sisters did as they were told.

Mam set Sammy on the floor to play with wooden blocks, and took a seat at the table. She finally got a good look at Jack, and her faced paled a bit. "Y-ye're Jack, right? David an' Les's friend?"

"That's me, Mrs. Jacobs. Thank you for lettin' me stay for dinner," Jack said. The smooth-talking newsie actually sounded a bit uncomfortable.

"Of course…" Mam shook her head. "Forgive me, but—ye look a lot like a lad I used to know back in Ireland."

Jack shrugged. "My dad was from Ireland, ma'am. Maybe that's why?"

"It's prob'ly the Irish blood. Lots of lads there have green eyes and dark hair over there. It's good blood to have." Alannah sighed, and Sarah brought her a plate. She ate quickly, as did her eldest daughter. They had to leave for the factory in a matter of minutes.

"Where do you live, Jack?" Jonny asked after a long moment of silence.

"Lodging house near Newspaper Row. Most of the Lower Manhattan newsies bunk there," the newsie said.

"Is it clean? I heard some of the lodgin' houses are kinda gross."

"Clean enough."

"Why are you askin' about such things, John?" Sarah said with a nervous chuckle.

"I'll be eighteen in less than a year. A lad's got to think about how he's going to make his own way in the world," Jonny said.

"What's a lodging house got to do with that?" Les furrowed his brow in confusion.

"That's where I'll live when I first move out. Then I'll meet a nice girl, marry her, an' rent a proper room somewhere. Once we start havin' kids, we'll move into a proper flat, with maybe two bedrooms and a kitchen. Maybe even a privy on each floor." Jonny's face seemed distant, dreamy.

Les snorted. "Ain't a cheap flat around here that's got an indoor toilet."

"At the lodging house we do, but I think it's a law that they _got_ to get one," Jack piped up. "If that's five cents a night there, maybe there's a tenement with cheap rent that's got an indoor privy too."

"One can dream," Jonny sighed.

Mam laughed. "We didn't live in a place with multiple rooms until after the twins were born. Six kids an' two adults in a ten by ten room. I dunno how we did it."

Jack raised his tin cup full of water. "To Jonny an' his search for a cheap flat with multiple rooms an' an indoor toilet!" he said. They all clinked their cups and laughed.

"Where'd you find him?" Jonny asked David with a grin. "Wherever it is, don't put him back. 'Cause I got a feeling he's a good mug to have around."

* * *

 

Hello! Long time no write (sort of). I really wanted to write Jack meeting the Jacobs family, so here it is. I'm not sure if this is going to have a "plot"-I'd prefer keeping this as a collection of one-shots about the newsies' interaction with the Jacobs family. With some other characters from the musical sprinkled in as well, of course. In this fic, Davey is fourten and Jack is sixteen. Les is still "ten, _almost_ ". This is set in early March, four months before the strike. I wanted Davey to get to know and be friends with everyone before the strike. Also, it makes him be more invested in it, as he has been a newsie for a longer period of time. I promise I will include other newsies in future one-shots. I already have plans to write Race- and Crutchie-centered one-shots :)

A few additional things:

Davey's view of Episcopalians does not reflect mine AT ALL. I just included that bit to highlight the Protestant-Catholic tension back in Ireland. As the son of an Irish Catholic immigrant, Davey's strong dislike of Episcopalians and Anglicans was something he was taught from practically birth.

As always, a huge thank you goes out to everyone who commented, left kudos, and reviewed. Much love~

 

**Author's Note:**

> \- "bronkis" is bronchitis  
> \- the psalm Davey reads to his mother is Psalm 46. 
> 
> So, this is my first Newsies fic! This was just a quick little thing I've written over the past couple days, hopefully it isn't too trashy. Critiques and reviews are always welcome in the comments. 
> 
> A couple things I think I should explain:
> 
> \- I've always loved large family dynamics, and how growing up in a large vs. small family affects a character. That's how I ended up creating eight more Jacobs kids :)
> 
> \- I feel like Les seems a little OOC--he's not nearly as outgoing in this one-shot as he is in the musical. I toned him down a bit since his father did just get run over by a truck :). He cries because he's afraid for his dad, and what little boy doesn't seek comfort from his mom once in a while?
> 
> \- Y'all may be wondering why I didn't make Davey and his siblings Jewish, since it is implied they are in the musical by the Jacobs' brothers names. I found myself struggling to write an accurate portrayal of life in a devout Jewish household, so I turned to Catholicism, my own religion. I didn't want to disrespect or not portray Judaism correctly. I'm by no means a hardcore Catholic; I make infrequent forays to church once or twice a month. However, I know a bunch about Catholicism and I know how hardcore Catholic families work. I made Henryk, their dad, Jewish to try and compensate for that. Hopefully my explanation makes sense!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Much love~


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